


seldom do we take the time necessary to pause; to stop; to record, rewind, and press play

by echoes_of_realities



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, also I haven't written in second person for like actual years so, this wasn't supposed to be as long as it ended up being whoOPS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_realities/pseuds/echoes_of_realities
Summary: You transfer to McKinley in grade eleven, and the lady who gives you your locker number winces as she passes the small slip of paper to you across her desk. You don’t quite understand her grimace, but your mom signs some forms and you smile awkwardly at the passing teachers and, just like that, you’re officially a student of McKinely High School.Your locker is a top one, which,score, and before you know it, there’s two people on either side of you as you shove your binders into your locker. You know these people from the Facebook pictures your cousin shoved under your nose, you know that they’re two of the three people your cousin warned you the most about: Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez.They see right through you, and right then and there you make it your goal to remain completely invisible to them.Or: The awkward teenager whose locker was in between Santana and Brittany's.





	1. Junior Year

**Author's Note:**

> Man did this ever get away from me…. 
> 
> Part 2 is coming either (way) later tonight or tomorrow! Inspired by [this](https://echoes-of-realities.tumblr.com/post/176973969338) screencap. 
> 
> Title from “Tomatoes” by Shane Koyczan.

 

You transfer to McKinley in grade eleven, and the lady who gives you your locker number winces as she passes the small slip of paper to you across her desk. You don’t quite understand her grimace, but your mom signs some forms and you smile awkwardly at the passing teachers and, just like that, you’re officially a student of McKinely High School. 

You already know what teachers to suck up to and who to avoid because your cousin is in his senior year and he has been prepping you for the halls of McKinely for at least the past month.

Your mom leaves and you’re left clutching a schedule and your backpack and too many binders. The secretary directs you down the right hallways to reach your locker, and you head off for a new year in a new school in a new town and you wish you weren’t so used to this. Your plan is to keep your head down until you graduate or move away, you think it will probably be the later considering your mom’s track record of having the worst possible luck ever regarding work. You hope this place works out for her, but most unit clerks seem to be easily replaceable, and despite how crazy hard your mom works, it seems like budget cuts, and therefore employee cuts, always seem to target the new staff, and therefore your mom. 

Your locker is a top one, which, _score_. The first bell rings and the hallway suddenly starts to move like it’s alive, parting and closing without any rhyme or reason, and before you know it, there’s two people on either side of you as you shove your binders into your locker.

You know these people from the Facebook pictures your cousin shoved under your nose, you know that they’re two of the three people your cousin warned you the most about: Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez, two of the top Cheerios at McKinley and, despite being in the Glee club and only juniors, two of the most popular students in the entire school.

They see right through you, and right then and there you make it your goal to remain completely invisible to them.

They’re talking about some party someone named Puck is throwing (you keep your face blank so they don’t realize you’re listening to them, but you think it’s kind of a dumb name). Brittany says something about lizard people and sewers and you see dimples out of the corner of your eye and you try to control your jaw dropping. You’ve heard your cousin tell hundreds of horror stories about Santana Lopez, the terrifying freshman and then sophomore who’s legacy of being both a bitch and insanely protective of her best friend stretches as far as to the middle school, if your younger cousins’ fearful awe is anything to go by. You’ve heard all these awful, horrifying stories about her, and throughout all of them you never, _ever_ , imagined how _soft_ Santana’s face could get.

It sticks with you throughout your classes, something that you tuck away and turn over in the back of your mind while teacher after teacher goes through attendance and class rules and course outlines. You’re still turning this new piece of information, so vastly different from what your cousin has told you, when they’re on either side of you at the lockers again and you see Santana’s dimples and _soft_ eyes and you realize that this morning wasn’t a fluke.

You’re interested and curious and have about a billion questions but you’re not _stupid_ , you keep your ears and eyes open and your head down and you always see things over the years that no one else ever does.

You notice small things over the first couple weeks of school, like how Santana only smiles with those deep dimples around Brittany, like how Brittany says the weirdest things that only Santana understands no matter how long it takes her, like how they have matching backpacks which would probably look dumb on anyone else but somehow manages to look adorable on them, like how Santana rolls her eyes as Brittany links their pinkies but can’t quite manage to hide the beaming smile on her face, like how they both soften only around each other despite how aloof and bitchy they are to the rest of the school, like how there’s this bright fear in Santana’s eyes whenever she catches herself looking at Brittany too long. You keep your head down and you notice all the small things.

You’re pretty sure you realize they’re in love long before anyone else does; long before even they do, maybe. You admire Brittany’s patience when it comes to Santana, and you admire Santana’s ferocity when it comes to protecting Brittany despite her fear, and you admire how obvious it is that they care more about each other than anyone else in their life, and you admire how obvious it is that they have found their soulmate already (and you feel just a hint of jealousy, but, like, the good kind where you’re happy for them despite the fact that you want to find what they’ve found too).

Until one day you feel a heavy tension between them and you see how Santana still softens around Brittany but not in a happy way, like she’s been forced to turn over and reveal her soft underbelly and she’s just waiting for the killing blow. Brittany’s eyes are hard and sad and you don’t think you’ve ever seen that before, and Santana looks guilty and angry and like fear is eating her up from the inside and you don’t think you’ve ever seen that before either. 

Some boy in a wheelchair escorts Brittany to her locker that afternoon and there’s something like surprise and guilt that flits over Santana’s face before it settles on anger. But underneath all that anger in Santana’s eyes as she glares at the boy, is pain you don’t think you’ve ever seen in anyone before, it looks kind of like that look in your mom’s eyes when your dad walked out on the two of you, but brighter and sharper, somehow, and you think it’s because, while your mom expected that, Santana was completely blindsided by this.

Things settle down again, but there’s still a weird tension between Brittany and Santana. They still soften around each other, but sometimes there’s an edge there, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but that worries you just a little bit.

Weeks go by and that boy in the wheelchair starts spending a lot of time around Brittany’s locker, and you only notice how _weird_ it is when you realize that Santana spends a lot less time around her locker now. Brittany genuinely seems to care about the boy, but you know it isn’t even a fraction of what she feels for Santana, you know it because while Brittany smiles and laughs and looks happy around that boy, she never, _ever_ , softens like she does around Santana; you kind of wish you could tell Santana that, but your relationship with the two Cheerios is as the silent locker neighbour, and it’s far too late to change that, so you keep quiet and hope that they’ll figure out how to work it out themselves.

Glee club wins Sectionals and it seems like things are almost back to normal. You still catch Brittany staring longing at Santana, and you see that bright, sharp pain in Santana’s eyes whenever that boy in the wheelchair is around, but you can tell they’re trying to put that weird tension behind them (you also know it doesn’t quite work, you know it because you don’t think it will ever go away until that boy in the wheelchair stops showing up at Brittany’s locker).

And then, just as suddenly as things seemed to be getting better, things start to deteriorate. They quit Cheerios, and you never realized how much Santana relied on the protection her uniform offered until she’s showing up in normal clothes and looking smaller than you’ve ever seen her. The circles under her eyes start to get darker and darker, even under the makeup she tires to hide them with. Brittany seems to get closer to that boy in the wheelchair and Santana is left floundering. You learn that, for how popular she is, there is only one person in all of McKinley she actually trusts and cares for, and your heart aches for her.

You know that Brittany knows too, how lost Santana is, how her eyes dull and her cheeks lose their fullness and how her dimples remain hidden and how the circles under her eyes get darker and how she winces every time Brittany gets too close. You also know how helpless Brittany feels, how caught she is between the boy she cares for and the girl she loves with her everything, how she’s getting tugged in two different directions and the people on either side of her don’t even realize they’re doing the tugging.

They both look exhausted and defeated and like they really need a hug, Brittany from a tug-of-war only she realizes she’s in and Santana from the ghosts she made herself that drip from her shoulders. 

You stand there between them and ache at how much they’re hurting. You’ve made a few friends since you started the beginning of the year, but none you’re so invested in as you are in Brittany and Santana, and you know you’re an outsider looking in, you know that you _really_ only see what they want you to see, but you can’t help but feel like there’s so much more you could be doing to help them.

Before you know it, it’s March and everything that’s been building for months comes to a head. You see Santana approach Brittany from down the hall by that water fountain, and the stiff set of her shoulders and the small look on her face and the way she plays with her hands tells you that you should stay right where you are. But you can’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but watch and worry and ache. You try to give them privacy the hallway doesn’t really offer, but you can’t help but stare as Santana flees down the hall with tears on her cheeks and Brittany stands at the lockers with tears in her eyes, and even though you can’t actually hear it, you know that both of their hearts just shattered.

Santana doesn’t show up to school for two days after that and you’ve never seen Brittany look so longing or sad before, and she looks at you with slightly hopeful, heartbroken eyes, and despite never having spoken to her before you know what she’s asking. You slowly shake your head and guilt claws at the inside of your stomach as you watch that hopeful light fade from her eyes; you never realized how _dull_ blue eyes could look until this week. 

If you thought Brittany’s eyes were heartbroken, it does nothing to prepare you for how _shattered_ Santana’s dark eyes are when she finally shows up. She’s here early, far earlier than you’ve ever seen her, and despite how put together she looks, you don’t think you’ve ever seen another person’s eyes so cracked, until you remember Brittany’s. You don’t quite know what happened between them, except that it obviously had something to do with whatever you saw a couple days ago, and that it obviously has them so goddamn heartbroken. Santana stares at you defensively, but you can read the fear and hurt in her eyes, and you just give her the tiniest smile and she seems to relax, or, at least, she seems to realize you aren’t about to go around and shout her vulnerability to the halls.

You hear quick footsteps behind you and you know who it is by the way Santana’s face shutters closed and the way her eyes crack wide open. Santana’s knuckles turn white where she clutches her locker and she closes it with more force than she probably intended. You don’t know why you do it, but you fumble your binders and textbooks and pencil case and all of your school supplies go skittering across the hall. You know Brittany, at least a little, and you know that she’ll stop to help you as you crouch and start gathering pencils and pens; Santana knows this too and she flees down the hallway. Brittany hesitates in front of you before dropping to her knees to help you gather your school supplies, staring longingly down the hall at Santana’s retreating back with the most miserable eyes you’ve ever seen.

You don’t know if you did the right thing, because somewhere throughout the months you’ve come to care for these two former Cheerios who are so _obviously_ in love with each other, and you don’t want to hurt Brittany in order to help Santana, but then Santana shows up at her locker that afternoon and offers you this small, half smile, and you know that despite your misgivings, you did at least some small thing right.

The next day, Santana shows up at her locker early again, long before Brittany gets there, and she keeps showing up early for a long time. She never says anything to you, and you return the favour, but she’s started to give you those small, half smiles and you realize, somehow, you’ve earned Santana Lopez’s trust. You take a small amount of pride in being one of maybe three people privy to Brittany and Santana being Brittany-and-Santana, and two of those people are Brittany and Santana.

Eventually, you get there one morning to find that Brittany has finally caught Santana at their lockers and you slow your steps, hesitating by that water fountain again and trying not to stare. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time they’ve spoken since that day at the lockers almost two weeks ago, and you are still hoping they will work everything out. You’re not oblivious to how awful McKinley is to gay kids, but they’re both just so damn _heartbroken_ these days and it makes something ache in your chest too. It becomes really hard not to stare when Couch Sylvester walks up to them, but this time it’s less to give them privacy and more out of fear for their current state of being alive. The facefuls of dirt they get makes you jump and you quickly try to hide yourself against the wall as Couch Sylvester storms past you. Brittany leads Santana off down the hallway, presumably to get cleaned up, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen Santana look so lost before. Brittany’s fingers are around her wrist and Santana looks a little bit hopeful and a whole lot nauseous; as they pass you, you offer Santana a half smile, and she tries to return it but it looks more like a grimace than anything, and then they’re both swallowed in the crowd of the hallways.

(You cautiously step over the dirt and open your locker with fear pounding through your chest and find that, aside from a couple handfuls of dirt, your locker is clean; Couch Sylvester is good, you’ll give her that, but she’s also more than a little bit psychotic.)

The boy in the wheelchair still sticks around even after that, but you can see how Brittany’s smiles never reach her eyes anymore. You kind of feel bad for him but not really because if he was blind enough to not see that Brittany and Santana will _always_ be Brittany-and-Santana, or dumb enough to get in between them anyways, then he must either be the stupidest person in all of McKinley (a true feat, to be honest) or he must be a complete and utter masochist.

About a week later you show up to school late because you forgot to set your alarm, and you find the hallways pretty empty. You half-jog, half-speed-walk to your locker and stop short a couple feet away. There’s bright red slushy covering the floor in front of your locker and your blood runs cold. You realize, now, that someone else knows Brittany and Santana’s secret, and that someone is a lot bigger than you and a lot less discrete. It doesn’t matter which one of the football players it is, not really, because you know Lima by now. You know that there’s a reason you haven’t really made any good friends here, and it’s because all too often there’s an enemy in every friend.

You step over the slushy and put your locker combination in and try not to wonder how cold Santana must feel right now, because you know that slushy hit Santana with the same sureness you know that Brittany must be somewhere trying to thaw Santana’s face and heart, you know because _no_ one at McKinley would ever dare to so much as think about slushy-ing Brittany, not with Santana still breathing. You put your backpack away and grab your second period binders and ignore the stickiness under your heel when you walk down the halls.

You watch Brittany break up with the boy in the wheelchair from the water fountain and you inwardly cheer because you know that something is changing, you can feel it in the air, and you feel it again, the next day, when Brittany and Santana show up to their lockers together for the first time in what seems like forever. Brittany’s eyes are free of guilt and Santana’s eyes are starting to mend along the fracture lines, and you could hug them both if it wouldn’t be so weird. 

Except you see prom king and queen posters of Santana Lopez and _Dave Karofsky_ , of all people, later that day and your jaw drops because that’s one thing you didn’t see coming. Brittany comes up beside you in front of the poster and she looks at you and smiles and her eyes are sad and dull again and you know that she knows as well as you do that Santana is absolutely terrified, again. And your heart jumps in your chest because you _get_ it, you _do_ , because that same fear claws at your heart sometimes, but you also _get_ why Brittany struggles to be so patient throughout it all. And you offer Brittany a half smile and she gives one in return and shrugs a little and your heart breaks for her. She’s been pulled in two different directions for so long that you wonder if she knows what it’s like to just exist and not feel whiplash. As you leave you touch Brittany for the first time, just a quick squeeze of her wrist, and she smiles at you and a little light reignites in her eyes and you feel a flash of pride.

You don’t go to junior prom but— You hear the horror stories and it makes something in your stomach curdle and your mom lets you stay home from school the next day. She calls in sick for you and curls up on your bed with you and you watch movies you two haven’t watched since you were both young and unburdened. Your mom makes you homemade chilli and you hide in her embrace and pretend that the world is a lot better than it is.

You drag yourself to school the next day and Santana gives you a half smile and there’s a knowing glint in her eye that should make you afraid but it just makes you feel like you’re understood. You give her a half smile back and you both dig through your lockers and pretend as if Lima isn’t as terrifying as it is. Brittany shows up soon, and her smile is wide but her eyes are subdued, and she doesn’t even try to link her pinky with Santana’s as they head to their first period class; you’re positive no one is more surprised than Brittany when Santana links their pinkies anyways.

They go to New York with glee, you know because you overhear their excited giggling, and you hope that they learn that there are places for people like them, places where they don’t have to look over their shoulders every single time they hold hands, places where the entire town isn’t staring at them and waiting for them to do something outside of what is normalized. You find yourself lonely in the days they are gone, and when they get back Santana is angry again. But before you know it, Brittany has already soothed her anger and Santana is _soft_ more often than not these days.

The school year ends and, as you head for the front doors you pass Brittany and Santana. Brittany waves at you and Santana offers you that half smile of hers, and you return both gestures. McKinley isn’t nearly as unbearable as you thought it would be, and your mom is doing better as one of the Lima hospital’s unit clerk than you ever hoped she would. You go to your cousin’s graduation and you cheer along with your little cousins when he crosses the stage and you grin a little because, despite his warnings, you somehow managed to kind of befriend two of the most terrifying girls at school, and now, all these months later, you find it kind of laughable that you were ever even a little scared of Brittany and Santana.

You go to California for week in the summer to visit your aunts and uncles and cousins, and you meet a boy who seems to have the sunlight trapped in his smile and you blush the entire trip. He was warm hands and bright eyes and his skin glows deep bronze in the moonlight. He makes you feel alive and, fleetingly, you wonder that if this is what Brittany and Santana feel, because then you _really_ understand why they willingly go though all of that heartbreak this past year, if this is what’s waiting for them at the end of it all, you have a feeling it’s more than worth it. You get his number and you don’t really stop texting at all for the rest of the summer and you feel floaty and bubbly and your mom’s fond teasing makes you even happier.

You see Brittany and Santana at the Lima Bean one day, in the middle of August, and despite the fact that they aren’t holding hands, you know something’s changed. They’re sharing a fancy milkshake and, when you pass their tables, you notice how their feet are tangled in the shadows of the table. Santana sees you first, and gives you one of those rare half smiles, the ones that got more easy and frequent as May faded into June, and Brittany waves at you as you stand in line and that floaty, bubbly feeling grows.

September creeps up on you, and before you know it your senior year is about to start. You still don’t have any really close friends, but you find that you don’t mind it so much anymore, not when you spent the year standing between Brittany and Santana. You only hope you get the same locker again, but you aren’t too worried about it because, as you’ve learned this past year, fate has a funny way of working out.


	2. Senior Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% glossed over the whole “Brittany not graduating” because of the many things I hate about Glee, that’s one of the top ones, but I wanted this to be canon so interpret it however you want lol.

**** You get the same locker again, right between Brittany and Santana, and despite the secretary’s apologetic grimace, you feel excitement fill you. You just might be the only person in the entity of Lima who doesn’t feel any hint of fear around Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, and that fact fills you with more than a little bit of smug pride. You’re a little surprised to see them back in their Cheerio uniforms, but Brittany waves at you and Santana gives you that half smile and you feel more at ease than you have since you left California. You still don’t speak to them, but you’re no longer invisible, and even still they don’t try to hide their _softness_ around you like they do to everyone else.

You’re pretty sure you’re just about the only person in McKinley who they trust, and you wear that badge with secret pride. They’re inseparable right from the start of the year, and there’s something easier about them now. There’s no longer a struggle, they’re comfortable, and Santana doesn’t try to force herself to look at guys and pretend and pretend and pretend anymore, and Brittany doesn’t hesitate to link their pinkies or thread her arm through Santana’s or be soft, soft, soft anymore. You don’t know what happened over the summer, but you’re glad for whatever it is. Everything is easy for them, and you watch and smile and your chest doesn’t ache because of the pain in their eyes. You talk to the boy with the sunshine smile and you don’t feel the need to linger by the water fountain to give Brittany and Santana space anymore.

You see the posters Brittany puts up in the hallways and you smile at the thought of Brittany Pierce as president. She’s charismatic and she has the emotional maturity of someone who’s lived a hundred lifetimes and you know she’s a lot smarter than anyone but Santana — and you, you suppose — realizes. Brittany worries at the lockers though, and today you slowly pull your binders out and pretend that Brittany and Santana don’t know that you’re eavesdropping. Santana tells Brittany that people would be crazy not to vote for her, and you hear the quiet threat in her voice. You inwardly roll your eyes because Santana is incredibly dorky and transparent and you give them a half smile and wave at them as you head to your math class and warmth settles in your chest at the small, awed smile Brittany gives you and then the wide, adoring one she gives Santana.

You hear rumours of trouble in the Glee club, and you listen to Santana and Brittany talk about Mercedes Jones leaving the New Directions (you can’t help but snicker every time you hear that name, and you know it’s okay because Santana always smirks at you in agreement). You like Mercedes, she was your lab partner last year in bio and you’re really hoping you’ll be lab partners again next semester. She’s funny and kind and you’re pretty sure she’s far too big for this school, far to big for this town (because you see how much Mercedes _works_ to be seen as half as good as everyone else, and you secretly cheer her own because she deserves good things). 

Mercedes quits the New Directions and before you know it, Brittany and Santana join her and the Troubletones are formed. They don’t ask for your approval or anything, but Santana purposefully floats the name around you and Brittany adoringly rolls her eyes at how unsubtle Santana is and you give them both a half smile in approval (any choral name that doesn’t automatically make you want to giggle like a twelve year old is good in your opinion). You note how their hands drift together and tangle before they catch themselves and link their pinkies and the grin that spreads across your face is a little uncontrollable. You noticed the change right on that first day back from summer break, all the little things that are settled and comfortable about them now, and you couldn’t be happier for your kinda, sorta friends.

The Troubletones are _good_ , you know even before you hear or see them, because you hear the New Directions worry. And one day as you walk past the classroom they use for practice, you can’t help but to drift closer. You’ve heard Santana and Mercedes both sing a little bit on their own, but you’ve never heard them _sing_ before, and you don’t know how the New Directions struggle so much when they have powerhouses like that; but then you remember they have dancers like Finn Hudson and Puck (which is still, you maintain, the dumbest name you’ve ever heard) and, while they have the talent and the desire, it sometimes seems like they don’t really have the direction. Ironic, really, you know, and you maybe laugh about it a little. Clapping starts in the classroom and you carefully peak in to find Santana and Mercedes and a junior (you think her name is Sugar or something, but you also think that might have been a joke when you heard Santana talk about her) singing and cheering and clapping and, just like with Santana and Mercedes, you knew Brittany could dance, but you’ve never seen her _dance_.

You walk away and feel just a little bit smug. Sure, you were always quietly rooting for the Glee Club, but you’re actually actively wishing the Troubletones the best because you _know_ these girls, even if you’ve only ever spoken to one about bio and lab directions and general life before. But you’ve always seen the small stuff, and you can’t help it when you hope the Troubletones will _crush_ everyone at Regionals.

Your mom asks you if you know Santana Lopez, and despite the fact that you’ve still never spoken to her, you find yourself nodding your head easily. Your mom smiles and starts talking about Maribel Lopez and how kind and snarky she is and how much the two of them have bonded about being working, single moms; she wonders if you and Santana would get along alright and you shrug, and you think of the half smiles Santana sends you because she knows that you won’t ever say anything to anyone, and you’re pretty sure that the two would definitely get along alright.

You see Maribel around the house, sometimes, and you smile and greet her politely and you marvel at how her daughter has that exact same half smile that she gives you in return. You listen to them talk from the top of the stairs, sometimes, and you try to pretend that you feel guilty about eavesdropping. They complain about the hospital and they complain about deadbeat fathers and they complain about the gas prices, but you sit patiently and listen for when they reach the bottom of the wine bottle and their complaining turns to quiet wisdom. You listen for when they start to talk about you and Santana, about how hard it is to watch their kids struggle with themselves for so long, about how much they wish they could take all the hardships they’ll face away, about how much more they just wish for their children’s happiness. You know Santana hasn’t come out to her mom yet, and you only came out to your mom at the end of sophomore year, but they trade stories and worries and wisdom and you know, you know that sometimes mom’s just know, and the best mom’s know and don’t tell and wait patiently and worry and give the tightest hugs at the end of it all. Your mom is like that, and you hear the worry and love that coats Maribel’s voice and you know Santana’s mom is like that too, and you wish you could tell Santana that but it’s another of those things that you know you have to keep secret; she’ll find out soon enough, you know.

You dread winter coming, and before you know it, it’s November and it’s snowing. Brittany and Santana still wear their Cheerios uniforms and you wonder how exactly Coach Sylvester manages that, but you don’t entertain the thought for long because you’re not entirely convinced that Coach Sylvester can’t read minds. They wear their letterman jackets more often than not now, and you think they take the most joy in the bushy sleeves and the large pockets because, if they stand really close to each other like they have been for as long as you’ve known them, it’s really hard to tell that Santana’s hand is actually holding Brittany’s in one of their pockets.

When Santana is outed you don’t know what you feel. You feel more anger than you’ve ever felt because you can’t even imagine what must have been going through Finn Hudson’s head to be so cruel as to out Santana in a hallway like that (you suspect, like you often do, that not a whole lot was going through his brain). You feel sad for her and Brittany, too, because you could tell that they were getting ready to come out on their own terms and that was just ripped from them (it was how Santana’s eyes lingered too long on Brittany’s lips but she didn’t jolt herself away and look both frustrated and sad and scared like she used to, it was how their hands would drift towards each other in front of your locker and stay there until you awkwardly shuffled up, it was how Santana has been sending you those half smiles without the fear behind them). You think you feel weird, most of all, knowing that everyone knows what you know, even weirder than you did when you first realized you knew what they were to each other, _even weirder_ than when _they_ first realized that you knew what they were to each other. You feel weird because there’s something sacred about them, and you feel weird because you know other people won’t understand that sacred thing like you do, and you feel weird because people will pry into that sacred thing without even trying to understand. You know you will because some of your friends ask you about it with greedy eyes and you shake your head and tell them you had no clue about Brittany and Santana being Brittany-and-Santana because, despite everything being in the open, you’re still not going to betray that trust that Brittany and Santana have put into you. 

You watch sit in the living room and maintain your weekly routine of watching the newest episode of _CSI_ with your mom, something you two have been doing for years. You sit and make fun of the commercials and then, then your blood runs cold when you see Santana’s face on your television screen. Your blood runs cold and your heart pounds and your stomach twists and you think you might be sick. Based on the look on your mom’s face, she’s not to far off either, except her face is filled with an anger you’ve never seen before and you know she must be thinking of Maribel and how helpless she must feel right now, and you wonder if maybe she’s thinking about you too, and how it could have been your face on that ad right now. That night you call the boy with the sunshine smile and you tell him about it and he lets you rant and he lets you cry and then, at the end of it, he offers you support and wisdom, and you kind of think you love him for it.

You don’t know how she does it, but Santana walks into the school with her head high and her hand in Brittany’s, and despite the whispers and the stares she just goes about her business as if said business wasn’t just broadcast to all of McKinley and then to all of Lima in less than a week. You’re pretty sure that you have whiplash from all of it, but the only thing that gives Santana away is the way her fingers tighten around Brittany’s whenever she feels leers on her back or hears hate aimed at her and Brittany or sees some jocks stalking down the hall. But it’s such a small thing that you’re pretty sure you’re the only one who ever notices, and that’s mostly because you’ve always noticed the small things, and you’ve learned to read Brittany and Santana over the past year and a half. (You hear rumours of one Santana Lopez slapping one Finn Hudson and you maybe give Santana an approving smirk and a high five the next time you pass her and, despite her confusion, she rolls her eyes and gives you a half smile like always, and you grin.)

Brittany wins the election, and it’s nowhere near enough to get people to stop talking about Santana’s outing, but based on the pride in Santana’s eyes it’s enough to get Santana to forget about being outed, for at least a little while. You wear your dumb little _I voted_ sticker and when Brittany sees it and looks at you expectantly and you smile and nod, because who the hell else would you vote for? 

You slip into the auditorium and watch the Regionals performance and you’re as filled with awe as you were that day you saw the Troubletones practicing in the classroom all those weeks ago. You don’t understand when they don’t win, and when Brittany and Santana show up at the lockers the next day you shake your head and offer them a half smile as you head to class. They eventually perk up, and before you know it they’re being unbelievably adorable again. You spend Christmas with your mom and your aunt and uncle and your little cousins. Your older cousin comes back from university and his jaw falls open and doesn’t really close when you tell him about the happenings of McKinley lately. He asks you if you knew Brittany and Santana were together before they were outed and he can’t quite believe it when you tell him you’ve known for a long time (you trust your cousin because he was the first person you came out too, and you know he doesn’t want to know for gossip reasons like your friends did). And he laughs and teases you for having an amazing gaydar. You smile good-naturedly and agree even though you know that it has less to do with a gaydar and more to do with the fact that you were lucky enough to get the locker between two of the few people at McKinley who you could so intimately _see_ and understand.

You get Mercedes as a lab partner in the new semester and you both high five. Because it’s all out in the open now, you talk about Brittany and Santana and you laugh when you realize that there has been another person at McKinley all this time who saw all the small things you did. You compare notes, and you grin and you feel light at finally being able to talk about this to someone who knew what you did, and who knew how important and precious and sacred of a secret you both kept. 

Brittany and Santana are even more adorable as Valentine’s Day approaches, and you know it’s because this is the first holiday they’ll actually get to spend _together_ together. You see Brittany head towards the lockers with something clutched nervously in her hands and you pause by the water fountain for the first time since last year. You avert your eyes to try and give them some privacy in the hallway like you always do, but your eyes drift to them anyways, like they always do. You feel light though, for the first time, hiding by the water fountain, because this conversation at the lockers is much happier than any of the ones that took place last year. You see Brittany offer Santana her present and you see Santana melt, even if you can only see the back of her head and her shoulders, and you see them start to lean in for a kiss and you do avert your eyes, because you don’t want to be accused of being a creep even if the only thing you get out of watching them kiss is a small sense of pride and joy that they’ve finally made it this far. But then Principal Figgins shouts across the hall and your stomach twists and you’re suddenly reminded that this is Lima and people in Lima are very particular about what is and isn’t appropriate; and you suppose horny teenagers on Valentine’s Day are appropriate as long as they’re not gay teenagers.

You hear about Dave Karofsky through a the school’s gossip and you freeze. You might have suspected, but you were never sure, and you know the stats as well as any kid and you know that, no matter what Dave Karofsky did, no one deserves to have their sexuality used as a weakness when it so often takes so long to see it as a strength. You see how Brittany’s eyes never stray from Santana, and you briefly wonder if she ever thought—

(You don’t want to know the answer, but you suspect, and you suspect Brittany suspects. You both watched her turn fragile and small and scared last year, and you regret that you didn’t actively do more. You regret it because you know what it’s like to be there, and you wouldn’t wish it on anyone.)

Brittany never strays too far from Santana, and Santana threads her fingers through Brittany’s and strokes her hand over her arm whenever she has a chance and you know Santana is trying to reassure Brittany. She sends you a half smile and you send one back and you finish the day and head home. Your mom hugs you extra long and extra hard that night and you let her because you need it too.

Your SATs come up far faster than you want them to, and more often than not Santana gives you that half smile and Brittany waves at you and you all groan wordlessly about the upcoming tests. Brittany brings her girlfriend a coffee in the morning more often than not, and Santana melts and smiles up at Brittany as if she’s the best thing (you’re pretty confident in saying that Brittany’s not just the best thing when it comes to Santana, but that she’s _everything_ when it comes to Santana). Some days Brittany will slip you a cookie she picked up and put her finger to her mouth when you try to thank her. You laugh instead and accept the cookies with a nod; between the three of you, you’ve gone almost two years without saying a single thing and you, like Brittany, really don’t want to break that record.

Prom comes and you skip it again this year. You don’t really find that you miss it, mostly because you talk to the boy with the sunshine smile most of the night. Though you do fleetingly think of Brittany and Santana, and you grin because you know how worried Santana was about picking out the perfect corsage for Brittany because Mercedes had told you that afternoon, you grin because you know that Santana could give Brittany a corsage made of dandelions and she would _love_ it. The next day there’s a new picture in Brittany’s locker of them at the prom, sitting on one of those dinosaurs for the photobooth Brittany was so excited about, wearing their fancy dresses and their matching corsages and their dorky smiles, and you laugh because anyone who ever thought that they were cool is sorely mistaken.

They go to Chicago for nationals this year, and you smile and wave as they leave school that last day before they leave. As soon as you hear the result you grin and can’t contain it and you are so happy for the club. You see the fear on their faces when they get home and you feel a little bad for participating but mostly overjoyed at how surprised they will be. You stand by the lockers and throw fake-slushy at them and grin and you remember that very first day of junior year and you marvel at how far everyone has come, and before you know it, grad is in a couple days.

You don’t think that they even know your name until you’re called to walk across the stage. You definitely know they recognize you when you pass them after throwing your grad cap high into the air, because Santana gives you one of those half smiles as you pass, one that blooms into dimples and a scrunched nose and bright eyes when Brittany playfully elbows her in the side with one arm and waves at you with the other.

You smile back at them and wave, and you _know_ , you know that even though you never won any of those dumb yearbook awards, you know that you’re the best person at keeping secrets in all of McKinley.

//

///

//

It’s years later, when your mom sends you a picture of the announcements section of the Lima newspaper with about a bajillion exclamation points and you’re not surprised, not really, not when you spent two years standing at the locker between them, when you see Brittany and Santana’s names printed neatly together under the wedding announcements section. You laugh and shake your head and read your mom’s texts about how over the moon Maribel is for her daughter and the girl who’s always been a second daughter to her and you feel something warm and bright settle in your chest. You look over at your husband with the sunshine smile and grin, and you think of that first day, that day when that first glimpse of dimples and soft eyes gave you something to secretly root for in that small hell-town, because your hope resided on Brittany and Santana making it work, because if they couldn’t make it through the homophobia of that town and come out the other side successfully you knew you had no chance. 

But you always knew you didn’t have to worry, because Brittany-and-Santana was always Brittany-and-Santana through it all, because no matter what happened in the middle, you knew it would always be those two at the end. 

Fate has a funny way of working out like that.


End file.
